


Down in the Torino

by kageillusionz



Series: The Stockpile [7]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Road Head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageillusionz/pseuds/kageillusionz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are two things Erik likes in the world: beautiful cars and Charles. Combine the two when driving down the Route 66 with Charles' head in between his legs and Erik is going to be less inclined to do any driving with his hands. A lot less inclined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down in the Torino

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ikeracity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikeracity/gifts).



> Written for this [NSFW gif](http://31.media.tumblr.com/2f794292e9b09e57a694c201661cb3b9/tumblr_mmg73bm7WH1qc3d8eo1_500.gif) and for my wubby as an incentive to keep studying! You go kick your last exam in the ass, darling.
> 
> Thanks to Mr. Fassbender in the November Issue of GQ and the above gif, this pretty much wrote itself. Also thank you to **treasuredleisure** , **velvetcadence** and **ang3lsh1** for the quick betaing work :D

Between driving down the Autobahn and an American Highway in a beautiful muscle car sporting some serious horsepower, Erik will pick the former any day. There is no comparison. Something about the sheer thrill of almost certain death as he drives at breakneck speeds, putting pedal to the metal as machinery purrs and thrums with life and power.

Erik's not quite living the dream in America, but it's close enough to it as he and Charles enjoy their road trip ever since Columbia let out for summer break. He has all but forbidden Charles to drive the Ford Torino GT. Not because Charles is a horrible driver, but because Erik loved to feel the power of an incredible machine underneath him, the vibrations coming from the engine, all of his to command.

The Torino GT convertible was made in 1970 and could hit sixty miles per hour in under eight seconds. Sure, the Torino may have been a remake of the mid-sized Ford Fairlane series, but for a performance car, it was one of the very best.  Comparing it to the Fairlane, the car itself was bigger: two inches wider and four inches longer, giving it a bigger engine bay to fit the 429-cubic inch Cobra Jet engine.

NASCAR had named it the car of the year back in 1970, with a 300- horse 351- equipped model like the rental car salesman guy was telling him, Erik knew quality when he saw it and felt very much like a little boy with a new toy as he had ran a hand over the sleek bonnet of the car and had chosen the Torino over the more sensible choices like the Crown Vic. The fact that the Torino was cherry red may have been the deal-breaker; everyone knew red always made cars go faster.

That had been almost a week ago.

The sun is blisteringly hot and Erik, for the first time, is glad that he had chosen to wear a polo shirt. Even Charles who was often found in no less than five layers on any given day, had stripped down when the heat had became too unbearable, stripping down to a simple short sleeved grey Henley that looked amazing on Charles, showing off his beautiful arms.

"Why did I let you talk me into driving from East to West again?" Charles moaned into the lip of his bottle of iced water. Charles took a long swallow of water, condensation gathering on his fingers and dripping down to his wrist. And not for the first time today did Erik want to reach over and lick the sweat and water off of Charles' skin.

"Because we have the time and seeing the sights of this country is something neither of us has done before," Erik replied, flicking his eyes back to the road that stretched out forever on Route 66. "Nothing like driving down the Mother Road. Classics, Charles."

He firmly reminded himself to stop looking over at Charles, lest he catches Charles doing something obscene like—like tracing the rim of his bottle with the tip of his tongue.

Fuck.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"You know perfectly well what you're doing."

"Oh darling," Charles sighs as he throws the empty bottle over his shoulder and into the backseat, where it joins the nest of his cardigan. He runs a hand up over his biceps, humming appreciatively as it slips down over the planes of Erik's chest and rests on Erik's thigh. "I'm not doing anything. But now that you mention it... Keep your eyes on the road. Move your right arm for me."

"What?" Even the word sounds dumb to Erik's ears. He doesn't believe what Charles is proposing, but obediently moves his right arm, throwing it over the back of Charles' seat. It's a perfectly normal response to have, especially with Charles' hand so very close to his cock which has become interested all of a sudden.

Charles smiles. "Relax, or really don't since you're driving. And I'm going to make it more difficult for you to concentrate from here on out. Oh well." There's the distinct sound of Charles' seatbelt being undone and then all of a sudden Charles is seated so much closer.

Erik's grip on the Torino's steering wheel tightens just as Charles slips his clever fingers underneath his polo and rucks it up, leaning in close to press his mouth against the side of Erik's throat. "I trust you to keep us from becoming a pile of ruined metal, a scenario I would like to avoid at all costs. But I can stop if you want me to, if the stress is too much for you to handle."

Erik growls, shifting his hips almost unconsciously closer towards Charles. The action makes Charles chuckle and he says: "I thought so." The sound of his zipper being undone is loud even to Erik's own ears and then Charles' hand is pulling his cock free.

Charles' hands aren't as callused as his are, nor are they as big, but they are certainly dextrous and warm around his cock. They know exactly where to touch, where to tease, how much is too much or isn't enough, and when his thumb rubs over the head, his hips jerk upwards on their own volition. The Torino also jumps, and Charles pauses long enough for Erik to adjust the car in-between white and yellow lines.

This stretch of road they're on is deserted, or perhaps it is all coincidence that Charles is doing this here and now. Charles is stroking him off slowly, lapping at the sweat that had gathered in the open vee of his polo just above the crease between neck and shoulder.

"Charles." The name sounds like it has almost been strangled out of his throat. Low and gravelly and completely at Charles' mercy.

Charles hums, proud of the effect he is having on Erik, no doubt. "I do love the way you say my name like that: desperate and wanting. I love having that power over you, but I'm not a cruel man." He presses a quick kiss to the underside of Erik's jaw, catching at the stubble growing there already.

"Just a moment."

The leather seats complains as Charles readjusts his position, quickly slumping down in his seat to remove his pants with a jangle of his belt, the ripping sound of his zip and Charles’ graceful shimmy, leaving his pants and trousers abandoned on the floor of the car in an undignified heap. Charles only in a Henley is a very good look, Erik decides.

"You're going to be the death of me," Erik announces with a low groan, watching out of the corner of his eye as Charles gets up on all fours on the leather seats. It isn't perhaps a bad way to go, receiving road head in a car like the Torino from his lover who possesses a very wicked tongue and a mouth that is borderline pornographic.

"Only in the best way possible," Charles agrees and that's the only warning Erik receives before Charles' mouth engulfs him. He starts at the tip, tracing a swirl over the head and then it's all the way down. Charles' mouth is moist and perfect and cool from the iced water he had been drinking earlier. All that Erik can see is the steady bobbing of Charles' head between his legs, sending his chestnut curls bouncing with each movement. Charles has a death grip on his right thigh, a necessity given his precarious position, and the pleasure that exudes from him is intoxicating.

The way Charles so readily licks and sucks and toys with his erection, humming indecently as if Erik is the best thing he has tasted, should earn him an award, a medal even if cocksucking was an Olympic sport. And Charles wants him to pay attention to the road through this.

<Why, thank you, Erik. I'm glad you think so very highly of my fellatio skills.> The smug bastard has the audacity to project at him.

"You should never talk with your mouth full, Charles. Didn't your mother ever teach you that?" Erik growls and moves his right hand to grab roughly at one of Charles' ass cheeks.

<Consider it a perk of living with a fellatio champion.>

"Cheeky."

Erik prides himself as a man who is disciplined with a willpower reinforced with steel. It's only through sheer determination that he doesn't buck up and fuck Charles' mouth like he wants to. He's supremely glad that his abilities have manifested as they did, for keeping the gas pedal depressed and the car together in one piece is proving to be a difficult task given how distracting Charles could be, abandoned highway or not.

Willpower is not enough when Charles guides his hand to slip between his ass cheeks. Willpower is not nearly enough to stop Erik from veering into the oncoming lane when Charles directs two fingers to press in, in, in; to where Charles must have prepped himself at the last gas station when he had gone to the bathroom and had bought them drinks. And willpower is certainly not enough to feel both Charles' throat fluttering around his cock or the clench of his sphincter muscles around his fingers.

Having Charles at his mercy in his lap is ultimately Erik's undoing and it would take a man greater to resist the urge to come. "Charles—" The vibrations around his cock stop momentarily, but Charles doesn't pull off. And Erik is incapable of holding back as Charles works him up towards that point and further, Erik feeling Charles swallow around him with a low satisfied purr. He's almost boneless, almost can't concentrate when Charles licks his over-sensitive cock until he's all clean and all the last traces of Erik's orgasm disappears on Charles' tongue.

"Fuck, Charles..."

"Yes, I certainly hope so."

Charles tucks him back in methodically with a saucy smirk on his face. Before he can sit back in his seat proper, Erik's hand darts out to cup Charles around the back of his neck and pulls him in for a deep kiss, nevermind that he is now driving with his powers alone. He has given up all pretense that he can function like a normal human, not when Charles has sucked his brain out from his dick.

Erik teases Charles' lips open with his tongue, and there inside Charles' mouth Erik can taste himself, salty and bitter. He plunders Charles' mouth, filled with all sorts of filthy promise and more. Erik wants. He wants so much, greedy for more of the little helpless noises that Charles makes.

Charles' eyes are glazed over from lust when he pulls back, a flush making its way down from his cheeks and his neck. There is hardly any wind that rolls in through their open windows to get rid of the strong musky scent of sex that clings to the interior of the Torino. Erik's thumb runs over the delicate skin above Charles' jugular that pulses underneath. The sweat that has dried there has made the skin feel tacky, but Charles closes his eyes all the same, shuddering a little at the little motions.

"Um. I should probably put my pants back on."

Erik is almost nonchalant when he says: "I say we keep driving and I jerk you off. Or finger you, whichever you prefer. And then when I'm ready to go again, we'll pull off the side of the road and then I either fuck you in the backseat or against the side of the Torino, or on the bonnet or all of the above. How does that sound, Charles?"

Charles whimpers and melts into the seat, and not from the sun that was streaming through the open window. Judging from the spike of arousal that Charles is projecting, Erik has hit the nail on the head.

"That sounds, uh, v-very good."

"Very good," Erik repeats with a filthy grin. "Now, pants stay off, and you’ll sit back properly and then spread 'em for me."


End file.
